Chapter 10
EMMIE
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Erin asked, forehead wrinkled as she stared at me across from our kitchen table.
I took a bite of my avocado toast. “What look?”
“The one where you are thinking really hard or are constipated.”
“Maybe I am constipated,” I joked.
“I have pills for that if you need them.” Erin shifted in her seat. “Are you thinking about Mateo again?”
Erin and I hid nothing from each other, so of course she already knew everything that happened with Mateo the other day. That, and she was here when he called me.
I waited to answer as I swallowed another bite. “I’m not sure if I actually believe he’s okay with my dad being his coach.”
Erin dragged her piece of bacon through syrup as she replied. “Does it really matter if he is or not?”
“I don’t want to ruin his career if, by some chance, my father disagrees.” I would feel like absolute dog shit if I were to jeopardize Mateo’s football career in any way. He had more to lose than I did.
“First off, you’re a grown woman, and your dad has no say in who you hang out with.” Erin pinned me with a look. “And, Em, babe, you are way too selfless. For once do something for yourself. If that means fucking the hot football quarterback, then please do.”
“We both have so much going on, I doubt either of us has time to even date.” My excuse fell flat, even to my own ears.
“How do you know? Have you asked him?” Erin pointed another piece of bacon at me. “I love you, Em, you know I do, but you’re self-sabotaging right now.”
“I’m not.” My tone got a bit defensive, but only because I knew she was right.
“Yes, you are. You always do when it comes to anything not skating related.” Erin leaned forward, eyes glued to mine. “What’s the harm in just hanging out with him?”
“Well, he could be a psychopath.” That wasn’t entirely unfeasible. I watched Dateline.
“A hot psychopath,” Erin hummed. “But seriously, Emmie, stop getting in your own way. Message the poor guy. It doesn’t have to turn into anything serious, and there’s no harm in just having some fun.”
“Yeah.” My voice was soft. She did have a point.
I glanced down at my phone beside my plate. It seemed to taunt me to pick it up and text Mateo. With a huff, I snatched and clicked on his name. I chewed my bottom lip as nerves fluttered in my stomach for some stupid reason. If I could skate in the Olympics, I could text a guy.
Me: Hey, are you free later?
I stared at the text for a good five minutes, contemplating if I should send it or not.
“Emmie, send the damn text,” Erin all but commanded.
“Fine, fine.” I hit Send and flipped my phone face down on the table so I wouldn’t keep checking it.
With a straight face, Erin said, “If you need a wing woman let me know. I’ll gladly come and hang out with some of his football friends.”
“You’d gladly help me out, huh?”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
I laughed into my coffee. Of course she’d be happy to tag along if there were hot football players there. “Want me to see if he has any single friends?”
“I do need inspiration for scenes.” She wriggled her eyebrows. “I’ve heard they have great stamina.”
“Such a horn dog.”
“That’s how I write such great books. I draw from real-life experiences.” Erin made a crude hand motion.
“Remind me—why are we friends again?” I asked, getting up from the table with my empty plate.
“Cause I give your life spice.”
“You sure do bring something,” I teased. I put my dish in the sink and turned back around to face her.
“Don’t act like you don’t love my love.”
With a grin, I walked over to her. I grabbed her head and planted a kiss on her cheek with a loud mwah. “You know I love you and would marry you in a heartbeat.”
Her grin almost split her face in half. “I’d marry you, too.”
If I didn’t have the unfortunate attraction to men, Erin and I would have already hitched years ago.
We fell into comfortable silence as I did my dishes and she finished her breakfast. I had just washed the last plate when my phone buzzed loudly on the table. The two of us shared a wide-eyed look before Erin lunged for it.
“Don’t you dare!”
Since she was closer, she got my phone before me and hugged it to her chest. “TOO LATE!”
She ran away when I tried to grab her, cackling as she headed for the living room.
“Give it back!”
“Not a chance.” As I chased her around the couch, her fingers flew across the screen, typing god knew what. “I’m doing what best friends do!”
“Humiliating me?” I lunged to the side, hand stretched out until my fingers grazed her arm before she dodged to the side.
“I’m helping you get laid by a hot ass man! Be grateful!” Erin shot over her shoulder.
Worried what she could be sending Mateo, I launched myself over the back of the couch, hurtling over the cushions until I was right in front of her.
“Hey, that was kinda cool,” she started to say before I shoved her down next to the throw pillows.
I wrestled my way on top of her, fighting to grab my phone from her grasp. “Give it to me.”
“Why are you so freakishly strong?”
“Cause I work out, bitch.” With nowhere for her to go, I managed to snatch my phone before scrambling off away. There was no way I was going to let her get it back.
“You elbowed me in the boob,” Erin moaned, hands holding her chest.
I ignored her and looked at my phone.
Mateo: Are you asking me on a date, Emmie?
I glanced at what Erin responded with.
Emmie: Yes.
Emmie: Ice rink—three o’clock.
Emmie: Be there.
Emmie: Stud muffin.
“Erinnnnn,” I groaned, closing my eyes as embarrassment washed over me. “Stud muffin—really?”
“What? He is one.”
“You don’t tell a guy that.” I could only imagine what Mateo was thinking as he read those texts. Right on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Mateo: Already at pet names in our relationship? I’m typically someone who likes to go slow, but I can work with stud muffin. I’ll be at the rink at three.
“Great, now he thinks I’m a weirdo.” I shot Erin a hard look.
“I mean, you are a weirdo.” She shrugged. “But he has to love your weirdness or he isn’t the one.”
“Wow, thanks, Shakespeare.”
Erin just grinned. “You’re welcome.”
“What are we supposed to do at the rink on a date?” I asked.
“I don’t know, skate? Make him lift you in the air with those muscles of his.”
Leaving her unhelpful ass on the couch, I headed to my room to get ready for practice, typing out a response to Mateo.
Emmie: Sorry, my roommate thought it would be funny to steal my phone.
Not even a minute passed before he replied.
Mateo: It’s okay if you don’t want to admit you called me stud muffin. I know you have my number saved under that name in your phone.
“Thanks a lot, Erin,” I mumbled under my breath.
Emmie: Now I regret texting you.
Mateo: You’ll never regret me, babe.
“Oh, boy.” I rolled my eyes. His ego was astonishing.
Mateo: I have to go to practice, but I’ll be there.
My first instinct was to text him back and tell him not to come, but Erin’s voice rang in my head, urging me to give him a chance. Maybe hanging out with him wasn’t such a bad idea.
I nervously skated around the rink, waiting for Mateo. I wasn’t even sure why I was. I’d never been one to get nervous over a guy. The last time it happened was my sophomore year of high school, and I wanted to ask a guy to be my date for a school dance.
There was just something about Mateo. He had this larger than life personality that drew you in instantly. I didn’t need to know the guy well to see why he was well liked.
The clock on the far wall ticked closer to three. Each minute made me wonder if Mateo would even show. There was no reason why he wouldn’t, but of course, my mind went to the bad.
“Get it together Em. He’s just a guy. A regular ole guy.” I mumbled to myself.
“Are you talking to yourself?” a voice echoed through the rink. I skidded to a stop, head whipping around to find Mateo at the entrance to the ice.
“How long have you been standing there?” I looked him over, ignoring the stupid butterflies in my stomach. He was already in his skates, a pair of long joggers, and a pullover. It was a simple outfit, yet he looked fresh out of a magazine.
His light brown hair was pushed back, a few pieces resting on his forehead. It had that shaggy look, like he needed a haircut, but I liked it. He really was insanely attractive. I’d met plenty of good-looking men, here in the states and internationally, but none held a candle to him.
“Long enough to hear you having a conversation with yourself,” he teased, stepping onto the ice. He casually skated toward me, long legs eating up the distance.
“I wasn’t,” I lied.
“Uh huh.” Mateo came to a stop in front of me. I had to crane my neck back to look at his face, his skates giving him another few inches and further dwarfing my short height.
I shifted on my feet as he stared down at me, not saying another word. The teasing tilt of his lips told me he found it amusing how uncomfortable I was. While I’m not a big yapper, I usually didn’t have such a hard time talking around people.
“So,” I cleared my throat, “thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for texting me.”
Okay, this was awkward. Suddenly, it was like I didn’t know how to use my mouth.
“Emmie, breathe.” Mateo’s tone softened. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. We’re just two people hanging out.”
I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders relax. He was right. We were just two people hanging out. Chill, Emmie.
Mateo gestured toward the open ice. “Race you to the far board?”
Just those few words broke the tension and got me out of my head.
My eyebrow arched. “Oh, you think you can beat me?”
“I don’t think so. I know so.” His face turned serious.
I shook my head. “Wow. You do know I basically grew up on the ice, right?”
“So did I.”
My inner competitiveness reared its head at the glint in Mateo’s eyes. With a quick glance over his shoulder, I measured how far away the wall was. When I met his eyes again, I smirked.
“Okay.” I pushed off my toe pick, vaulting to the side of him, and tore down the ice.
“Oh, you play dirty,” Mateo called out from behind. I didn’t dare glance behind me, too focused on the wall ahead.
The sound of skates meeting ice met my ears seconds before his figure blew past me. I gaped at his back as his long, muscular legs ate up the distance within seconds. My legs slowed since I had zero chance of making it to the board before him.
“Any day now,” he called, leaning back against the boards, a smirk clear as day on his face.
I purposely sprayed ice on his legs as I stopped.
“How did you get here so fast?” I asked, bewildered. And here I thought I was fast on ice skates.
“Hockey.” He said it with a shrug. “Hockey players are faster.”
Placing my hands on my hips, I leveled him with a look. “Are you implying hockey players are better on the ice than figure skaters?”
“I mean…”
I resisted the urge to punch his arm. “Okay, prove it.”
“But I’m not a hockey player, remember?”
“You clearly know hockey so let's put it to the test. Let's see if you can do what figure skaters do, and I’ll see if I can do what hockey players do,” I challenged.
He crossed his arms as he thought over my challenge. “What decides the winner?”
“Whoever does the most between the two,” I suggested. For two competitive people, there had to be a winner.
“Actually, the more important question is, when I win, what do I get?”
“So sure of yourself.” I shook my head in mock outrage, hands on my hips.
He pushed off the wall and circled me. I stayed still, eyes forward while I tried to act unaffected. When his warm breath fanned against my neck, I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.
“One thing about me is,” his voice was low and smooth like honey, “I don’t like to lose. And I rarely do.”
Any sort of response got stuck in my throat. The way he said it, like a promise, sent a jolt through my chest down to my toes.
“We’ll see,” was all I could come up with. Inwardly, I cringed at myself. Who knew one simple sentence from him would turn my insides to goo. What the hell, Emmie?
“We can decide what the winner gets later.” Mateo had an ear-splitting grin on his face. Like he could see the effect his words had on me.
I mentally shook my head and cleared my throat. “What should we do first?”
“Show me what kind of moves you got.”
“I’ll start with baby stuff. Wouldn’t want to overdo it for you.” I made a show of looking him up and down.
“Uh huh, just show me, Emmie.” The way he said my name made me smirk.
“It's a small jump. You want to get a decent running start before pushing off the toe pick,” I instructed as I skated away from him.
I knew I could easily jump into the air, but I toned it down, only offering a small lift that we learned when we started skating. I landed and turned to Mateo with a smile. “Your turn.”
“Easy peasy,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice. It always looked easier than it was.
Mateo started, gliding along the ice. I watched his legs, wondering if he could even get air with hockey skates on instead of actual men’s figure skates. I bit the inside of my cheek at his expression. He looked so cute when he was focused.
When he jumped, he managed to get a little bit of air. His skate wobbled when he landed, but he didn’t fall. He turned to me with a triumphant look.
“Not bad,” I conceded.
“What’s next?”
I was going to make him regret challenging me.